All the Pretty Bottles Lined Up in a Row
by Vanessa Sgroi
Summary: Oneshot. Wee!Leandros Brothers. Six-year-old Cal tries to find an answer to a question that's been nagging him and flirts with disaster.


All standard disclaimers apply. The characters herein belong to the lovely Rob Thurman who entertains us all so thorougly with her books.

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**All the Pretty Bottles Lined Up in a Row**

**By: Vanessa Sgroi**

Six-year-old Caliban Leandros sat at the small rickety kitchen table swinging his sneakered feet back and forth and ignored the piece of toast and peanut butter sitting in front of him. Instead he stared intently at the numerous bottles lined up on the kitchen counter each contained a varying amount of sparkly liquid—some a pretty brown and some as clear as water.

After several long minutes, Cal slid off his chair and pushed it over to the counter. He climbed up on the seat, grabbed a squat plastic tumbler from the dish drainer, and reached for one of the long-necked bottles—one containing the pretty brown stuff. Removing the lid, he filled the glass with the liquid, frowning as the alcohol fumes reached his nose. _Sure doesn't smell too good._

He lifted the glass to his lips and took a large swallow, gasping as it burned its way to his stomach and tears sprang to his eyes. _Doesn't taste too good either._ He waited a couple of seconds and took another swallow. This one went down a little easier. After drinking half the glass, Cal realized this stuff made him feel real warm inside. It was almost comforting.

Cal polished off the glass and blinked blearily at the bottles in front of him. He reached for one containing clear liquid and again filled his glass. This one tasted a lot better than the brown one and didn't burn as much going down. He raised the glass to his lips and took another mouthful.

"CAL! What the heck are you doing?"

The yell from his older brother, Niko, startled him, and the glass slipped from his fingers, hitting the floor with a loud crack. Alcohol sprayed across the floor and droplets impacted on cupboard doors. At the same time, the vodka in his mouth went down the wrong way, and Cal started coughing. When he was finally able to stop, Niko was standing in front of him and he looked really mad.

Niko looked worriedly at his little brother who stood swaying back and forth on one of the kitchen chairs. "Cal, you were drinking this stuff?" He gestured to the open bottles on the counter.

Cal bit his bottom lip and nodded. The room was starting to spin a little and his brother looked a little blurry. "N-Nik, I don' feel good no more."

"This is very important. How much did you have?" Nik wrapped his arms around Cal's waist and helped him off the chair. Thoughts of alcohol poisoning swirled through the blond boy's head.

"O-One g-g-glass of the pretty brown one. And jus' a 'wallow o-ffff the other 'un. B-But now I-I-I spilled it." Tears filled his eyes and began to trail down his pale cheeks. Strands of his tousled dark hair stuck to the moisture.

"Don't worry about it. I'll clean it up. Cal, why were you drinking Sophia's alcohol?"

"I-I jus' wanted to s-s-seeeee why she l-likes it sooooooooo much."

Nik sighed dejectedly and pulled his brother tightly to his side as he guided him toward the living room. He sat Cal on the couch and knelt in front of him. "Cal, listen to me, you never, ever touch that stuff again, you hear me?"

The younger boy blinked at him but offered no response. Niko held his chin and locked eyes. "You understand me, Cal? You are never to touch that stuff again." He wiped at the wet streaks on his little brother's cheeks.

"O-Okay, Niky. I promise. Are you g-gonna smack meeee like Sophia does? 'Cause it's—it's o-o-kay if you do—I know I'm bad."

Niko's heart clenched at the resignation in Cal's voice. "No, I'm not gonna hit you."

Cal snuffled and snuggled against his big brother's side. "Dunno why she likes it, Nik. It t-t-tastes bad and gives you a tummyache."

The older Leandros boy grimaced, suspecting Cal might have a lot more than a tummyache before all was said and done. He put his arm around Cal's slight shoulders.

His expression hardened as he thought of perpetually drunken and/or hungover mother. They were going to have a talk the minute she rolled out of bed. Before nightfall every drop of alcohol in this shack was going to be far out of Cal's reach, Niko was going to make damn sure of it no matter what he had to do.

_**Fin**_


End file.
